RESIDENT EVIL: Between Victory and Defeat
by Surj the Ronin
Summary: Three people. The experiences. One chance for survival...


RESIDENT EVIL  
  
Between Victory and Defeat  
  
By Surj the Ronin  
  
"I'm still looking for these angels in this cold night."  
  
Rico Martinez gripped his M4 Assault Carbine until his knuckles turned white. Those freaks are not going to make it past this line. Rico was an operative of the Raccoon SWAT team when the mansion "incident" happened. Now he had control of his own element. His squad, along with the remaining Raccoon Police Force, formed a defense line outside the Police Department. The blockade consisted of about 10 squad cars and SWAT vans, all lined with sub-machine gun and assault rifle equipped officers.  
  
Rico could hear their inhuman moaning. Those soulless bodies, marching on their last line of defense like an undead army. The young element leader swallowed hard. Jason Mathess, one of the rookie SWAT boys, looked at Rico.  
  
"Um, sir? How the hell do we kill those things?" Rico looked at the young officer.  
  
"Just remember to aim for the head." He flicked the fire selector to semi-automatic. "We have to conserve our ammo. That's the main thing." The first wave of undead appeared on the tattered street's horizon. He looked through the small mounted scope on his rifle. Oh my god.He had shot a few of the monstrosities before, but nothing like this.  
  
"Sir!" Jason yelled. "Some of them are cops!" Rico blinked, wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, and peered through the scope again. The image hadn't changed. A stumbling, overweight zombie lumbered ahead of the first inhuman wave, wearing a tattered cop uniform.  
  
Rico checked the clip on his M4. He then felt for the remaining clips. Only 3 left. The stench of the walking corpses was almost unbearable. A few other officers lost whatever was in their stomachs. Looking at the first wave, he could easily tell that there were 30 or 40 marching down the four lane highway. "What are we WAITING for?"  
  
Finally, the order came. "Everyone, check your line of fire!" Rico made sure that nobody was within 5 feet of his line of fire. He crouched down on one knee and dropped the carbine gently on the hood of the squad car.  
  
"FIRE!"  
  
The resulting gunfire was almost as unbearable as the stench of the dead freaks that were marching in the street. He centered the crosshairs of his scope on the cop-zombie's head, and pulled the trigger. The overweight monster reeled back, then looked at the living. His chest exploded in a hail of sticky blood and nine-millimeter ammunition. One of the cops with a MP5 must have got him. The fat zombie stopped, then spilt in half. Its top half fell, then the bottom half shortly after. He centered his sights on another zombie, this time a female with a huge hole for a stomach, and switched to three-round burst.  
  
He put three 5.56 rounds into the woman's chest. Rico quickly switched to a new target. Three more rounds. New target. Three rounds. The cycle repeated a few times more. Empty. Rico ejected the empty magazine, seated a new one, and slammed in a fresh clip. The machine gun fire slowly died down before he could shoot. An officer was standing on top of the front squad car, signaling to hold fire. A few more rounds were shot off, then stopped. Rico's ears were ringing.  
  
The officer on the car turned and looked upon the sea of finally dead bodies. We got 'em! Rico thought. We got 'em.  
  
"All elements, form up! Check your ammo." Rico walked to Jason's position.  
  
"How are you doing?" The rookie looked up at Rico, face green.  
  
"I don't know, really."  
  
Rico looked to the front of the blockade. The officer on the front car hopped down. "What the hell is he."  
  
Rico saw three cops walk thru the sea of dead bodies. Oh SHIT! He could see the next wave of the undead approaching. Fast.  
  
"No! GET BACK!" Rico brought his carbine to bear, and put two rounds in the lead zombie's head. The cops in front of the defense line looked up at the sound of gunfire, saw the new wave, and yelled. The three turned and ran.  
  
Rico screamed, "COVER THEM!" The decibel level of the gunfire almost made Rico wince in pain. He brought the gun up and put the retreating officers in his sights. The three cops ran for their lives. Rico could see the looks in their faces. The look of terror. He'd been seeing a lot of that lately.  
  
  
  
Heather Metzger had it all. Good grades at school, trusting friends, and a beautiful body that could melt any man. And she was only a Junior at Raccoon High. Lately, though, things had been turning to shit. Her boyfriend left, some people from school had turned up missing, and now those freaks they called "Carriers" roamed the streets in the outskirts of Raccoon City. Now she sat in her father's apartment, watching the local news.  
  
One of the reporters was inside of a building ten stories above the main barricade in front of the police station. The camera was unstable, jumping a few inches every couple of seconds or so. The view was devastating. The barricade was on the left side of the screen, held in place by two squad cars. To the right, just yards away, was an ocean of dead bodies. There were so many grotesquely dead carriers that the worn, gray pavement of the street could barely be seen. What was visible, though, was drenched and stained in blood.  
  
The image on the screen was horrible. Heather sat with her father on the living room's couch, staring at the television. She could just imagine all the people she once knew, out in that sea of lifeless bodies.  
  
As she looked on, three cops jumped over the barricade of crates and steel fences. They walked far out into the street, away from the defense line, and their fellow cops. The new anchor's voice interrupted the somewhat quiet hum of the old, run down TV.  
  
"Remember, this is coming to you live from WRCN, Raccoon's News Channel. What appears to be going on. is the defense of the inner buildings of the city, as well as the government complex. It is unknown, at this time, just how many carriers have been stopped."  
  
The three cops continued to stray farther and farther from the barricade. "Our reporter, Amanda Caliban, is on the scene." A short pause. "Amanda, can you hear me?" Another pause. "Yes, Carla, I can hear you." The reporter's voice was muffled. She must be talking thru a phone.  
  
"Amanda, could you please tell the viewers what your take is on this grizzly incident?" The anchor sounded way too calm. The reporter, on the other hand, sounded like someone having a nervous breakdown. "Well, Carla, it appears that the Raccoon Police Department has stopped the carriers. There doesn't seem to be any. Wait."  
  
The final word in the reporter's sentence chilled Heather to the bone. "Something seems to be happening." The camera steadied, and focused on the three stray cops.  
  
Some popping and crackling could be heard on the TV set. The sound of people occasionally yelling began to creep through the TV's speakers. The camera had sound.  
  
The three cops were kneeling over a body, one that looked like a cop. Another yell, then two gunshots. The cops looked in the direction of the barricade, then down the street. Slowly, the cops stood. The sound of many feet and soulless moans started to slowly fill the television. "Oh my god." Heather thought as the camera slowly panned to the right, in the opposite direction of the barricade. Hundreds. Hundreds of undead carriers came into focus on the TV set. Their slow, shuffling ranks advanced on the cops positions. Hundreds. They were everywhere now. Filling out from alleys and backstreets.  
  
The camera quickly moved to the left, watching the three stranded cops. Then, the gunfire started back up. The new wave of zombies began to fall. Blood sprayed from the walking corpses as various kinds of bullets tore thru them.  
  
As the gunfire died back down, two other cops emerged from the barricade, charging towards the retreating officers in the street. Then, one of the running officers fell, landing on another body. One of the previous wave's carriers was clutching the fallen cops, pulling him closer.  
  
"Daddy." Heather gasped as her father held her closer. Not even her Dad could prepare her for what she was about to witness.  
  
"Oh my lord!" The anchor yelled as half a body crawled closer to the fallen officer and sunk its teeth into his leg. The cop looked back at the zombie, and screamed in pain. There were muffled noises on the phone line of the reporter. The two rescuers from the barricade charged at the attacking carrier. The leading officer, who was apparently a SWAT member, judging from the shortened assault rifle he carried, ran and kicked the zombie's face, launching it back about three feet. The second rescuer scooped up the injured cop, heaved him up on his shoulders, and started back for the line as fast as he could. The SWAT officer jogged behind the ally, turning around every ten yards or so, and firing.  
  
Another sight horrified the young blonde even more. As the rescuers charged back to the barricade, the camera briefly looked back at the new wave. Out of all the shooting that took place at what seemed like hours ago, only a tenth of the second wave had been dropped. Then more horror. As the rescuers ran, the remnants of the first wave began to rise from the ground. "Oh no."  
  
All around the rescuers, the zombies began to rise again.  
  
"Almost there!" Rico thought. Only a few feet in front of him was Jason. He still carried the bleeding cop, who was clinging to the black- haired rookie. His leg was bleeding horribly. Rico spun on his front foot, aimed at the closest undead and put three rounds in its chest. The zombie dropped in a huge spray of darkened blood.  
  
He turned back around, and saw Jason climbing the barricade, setting the injured cop down on a stretcher. "He made it!" Rico thought as he gripped the M4 and ran for the line.  
  
The seasoned SWAT operator didn't expect the hit he took next. Something slammed into Rico. Hard. As he fell, he managed to turn his body just enough to land on his back and draw the barrel of his M4 up to his attacker. A virus carrier lunged at the downed operator. Rico winced as the zombie fell towards him. and landed on the barrel of his carbine. A sickeningly wet sound was heard as the barrel sunk halfway into the zombie's stomach.  
  
"Take this you freak." Rico flicked the fire selector to full-auto and squeezed the trigger. The undead corpse twitched and lurched with every kick of the M4. The entrails of the zombie blew out its lower back, falling across the street. He applied pressure to the trigger until the clip ran dry. He looked the monstrosity in the face, placed his foot on what was left of its torso, and kicked it off. The corps fell to the ground, lifeless for the second time.  
  
Rico stumbled as he got up. That zombie shook him up good, but now it should be truly dead. As soon as he was up, Rico ran for the line. Cops were yelling and waving, some shooting. He was going to make it.  
  
  
  
Heather, as well as the remaining population of Raccoon City, watched the brave SWAT operator get tackled, shoot the carrier, and make it back to the barricade. As soon as the operator made it back, he grabbed something from the open trunk of a squad car, and began shooting.  
  
"Amanda, are you there?" The anchor called to the reporter on the other line. There was a dial tone, nothing else. The anchor said no more.  
  
The speaker on the camera still had power, though. Amidst the chaos of the shooting and the line of undead drawing ever so near, heavy breathing could be heard. Then heaving, and the sound of someone vomiting. Amanda must be losing it.  
  
No one was prepared for what happened next. As the massive undead wave drew closer to the front line, the shooting slowly died down. Many of the cops ran to the open trunk of one of the cars, and some began to crawl around in the police van. There was no shooting. Only the sound of soulless moans and shuffling.  
  
Many of the cops began to kneel down and make some kind of mark across their chest. "Oh my god." Heather thought. "They're out of ammo." The cops began to pull their nightsticks from their belts. Other gripped their rifles and pistols by the barrel, as bludgeons. A few of the cops holstered their weapons and ran. Nobody can blame them.  
  
  
  
There was going to be a slaughter, and all of the remaining cops knew it. "And where was the god-damned military when you needed it?" he thought. The brave cops formed a tight riot control line, gripped their makeshift clubs, and prepared for the worst. Rico drew his Ka-bar from its sheath, and drew it to the ready. This is going to be bloody.  
  
The first few carriers climbed over the barricade and shuffled towards the line of officers. Then more.  
  
As they drew closer, one cop looked at his fellow officers. "Well, nice fighting with you," he said with a smile. The carriers drew closer, their undead moans piercing the heart of every man there. Rico waited till the lead zombie was just within range, and swung.  
  
  
  
Heather's father tried to cover her eyes, but she refused. She had a feeling that she might as well see it now. The young girl spotted the brave rescuer, and watched him swing his rifle at the zombie. The stock of the rifle struck the zombie square in the face, snapping its weak neck. It crumbled to the ground, twitching. Then, the lines collided.  
  
Four or five of the cops went down instantly. Despite the camera being ten stories up, she could hear the screams of the dying cops in the street. This was a one sided battle.  
  
One cop gripped his rifle with both hands holding back a carrier. He brought his foot up to kick it, but another lunged at him, biting his foot. The officer screamed and fell back to the ground, and became engulfed by the zombies. What could be seen of the cop was kicking and throwing wildly, trying to keep the flesh-eating zombies from killing him. Another cop ran to the toppled one, swinging wildly. What he saw of the downed cop scared him. He ran.  
  
There were only a few cops left now, swinging and stabbing with all their energy. Another cop was taken down, then another. A few more turned and ran. She spotted the brave rescuer, still swinging as a few of the carriers managed to overpower him.  
  
  
  
Rico couldn't do it. He just couldn't fight them off any longer. He swung as hard as he could, hitting at the least two zombies per swing. God, they were strong. Finally he pulled his weapon back and turned to run. Three untiring zombies lunged at Rico, knocking him to the ground. Rico hit, then held his weapon up to bar away the carriers. "This is it", he thought. The disfigured face of a female carrier hissed at him just inches away.  
  
The carrier's growling head exploded, sending brown liquid and pieces of bone flying. The zombie to the left stood, looked down the street, and flew back, chest shattering in a hail of gunfire. Rico pushed the third undead away, and swung the stock of his M4 at the freaks head, taking it clean off. He pushed the decaying body off, and clumsily turned to a run down the street. The undead may be strong, but not fast.  
  
Rico turned his head to the origin of the gunfire. It was Justin, holding his MP5, and the cops he saved, putting rounds into a M90 shotgun. Justin ran to the SWAT leader.  
  
"Sir, I suggest we get the hell out of here!" A squad car was a few feet away, cranked and ready to go. The injured cop limped to the passenger door and got in. Rico stumbled to the back door.  
  
  
  
Heather felt almost happy as the three attacking zombies fell, and the rescuer got away. But that excitement left almost immediately. The carriers had broken through.  
  
There was nothing stopping them from destroying the town. She felt a tear roll down her cheek. "What happens now"? 


End file.
